


what is your treasure?

by youngjo



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Falling In Love, First Kisses, First Times, M/M, Servant!Yeosang, Soft sex, prince!seonghwa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21884785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngjo/pseuds/youngjo
Summary: So begins the tale of the prince falling for his servant.
Relationships: Park Seonghwa/Kang Yeosang
Comments: 47
Kudos: 534
Collections: Ateez fics for clear skin





	what is your treasure?

**Author's Note:**

> would you believe this is more plot than smut ? bc it is
> 
> i had an idea based on yeosang wearing a crown and the original idea didn't even make it into this fic so that's ,, a wild factoid to share ,, either way i hope you enjoy this !!

Yeosang remembered the first time it happened with vivid clarity. No other memory had such a grip upon his everyday life in quite the same way, not even the negative associations with his childhood. He remembered it as one may recall the experience of wine for the first time; you were either pleased or disgusted. Yeosang had hoped for the latter, in the moment, but this was not the case.

Really, it should’ve been, given the circumstances.

Park Seonghwa was leagues above him in terms of everything. Social status, political position, and monetary standing; he was the prince of a thriving kingdom born with a silver spoon. Kang Yeosang had been sold to the palace to settle his father’s debts when he had been a mere four years old; he was a servant with nothing but a name to offer.

So, one could imagine when Seonghwa found him in a sparsely used storage room, looking  _ absolutely debauched _ , just how panicked he had been. With his fingers up his ass, a hand around his cock, and pretty lips glistening with drool, Yeosang had truly been a sight to behold. Only he’d chosen the location so he wouldn’t be caught in the first place, especially not in such a vulnerable state before the very man destined to become King just by birthright.

Seonghwa had turned and fled the room immediately, but there had not been a single trace of disgust upon his features. Perhaps it came from shock, perhaps it came from something more. Yeosang did not know. He merely scrambled to his feet, gathered his clothes, and rushed back to his duties. The embarrassment flooded hotly through him whenever he thought about it that day, and many more after, and his panic over being thrown out or worse— _ killed _ —terrified the poor servant enough to make him slip up during chores. So his fear stemmed not only from what the prince had witnessed but how he managed to tear an expensive garment and spill red wine on a white bed linen all in one day.

By the time Yeosang had been summoned for what he assumed would be disciplinary action weeks later, he had gotten so worked up that his stomach could do nothing but churn unpleasantly. But, Yeosang had not been directed to the throne room. Instead, the courier sent to retrieve him passed along a roll of parchment bound in the most exquisite golden ribbon; he knew immediately it had come from Seonghwa. Yeosang remembered his hands trembling so badly he dropped the parchment twice. He also recalled the words perfectly no matter how much time had passed; he still had the scroll tucked into his drawer if he didn’t.

‘ _ I will wait for you upon the third floor balcony every night for an hour after sunset. You may appear when you so choose, even if it takes you more than two fortnights. You have captured my attention, Kang Yeosang, and I would enjoy having a chat with you. I will be waiting. —Park Seonghwa. _ ’

Yeosang sent a silent prayer he had been on laundry duty that night, for the contents of his dinner ended up in some nearby bushes. 

Being a mere servant, his mind first went to a trap. But, and this had just been Yeosang’s speculation from far-off encounters and banquet dinners, Seonghwa didn’t read as the type to tempt in such a manner. The prince had a history of being fair and soft-spoken, with a kind heart that rivaled the iron grip his father had over the kingdom. His rule had been, in truth, tough but fair, full of harsh decisions and honest mistakes. Seonghwa’s parents weren’t awful monarchs by any stretch but there were still plenty who feared them.

Yeosang had always been one of them.

It had taken Yeosang a whole week before he finally crept up to the specified meeting place. Part of him argued it’d been due to waiting until he didn’t have duties one evening, but he knew the truth deep down; fear. Who could blame him, truly? Despite knowing not a single soul but the King, Queen, and Prince occupied the third floor, Yeosang still took care in picking his way down the hall. 

The third floor balcony was a glorious location, entryway framed with gold silk curtains that pooled along the stone floor. They served as the doorway, something Yeosang would come to regret in the future, but for that particular evening they had been drawn wide. Beyond the curtains sat a wide balcony made of stone, each pillar supporting the railing hand-carved by the most talented stonemason in the kingdom. Beyond the balcony sat an exquisite garden maintained by only the best botanists and herbalists in the whole land, complete with a koi pond in the center. One could see the stables, the courtyard, and the right wing of the castle from the edge; it held the title of the prettiest location.

Yeosang had never been up there until that evening.

Approaching the corner, Yeosang had cautiously peeked around it to get a measure of the situation. He fully expected guards to be waiting for him, ready to take him away, but this did not happen. Instead, his eyes fell upon a softly flickering lantern settled upon the stone handrail. A form stood hunched over the edge, back to the door, and just the faintest sound of humming came from their direction; even from a hum Yeosang had known who it was. Yeosang observed for several moments, just listening, before he announced his arrival with a soft, “Sorry to bother you, Your Majesty.”

Seonghwa turned, fixing him with a stare that even through the poor lighting he could tell was soft. “Ah, I was beginning to wonder if you would arrive, Kang Yeosang.”

Yeosang could not stop the blush that swirled within his cheeks. No one but the Head Maid called him by his name, and certainly not in such a charming tone. “I-I am honored for the invitation, Your Majesty, but I am unsure what it’s for.” He averted his gaze to the floor at his obvious lie. He heard shuffling, and feet came into his line of sight. Despite how hard he stared at the floor, they did not go away.

At length, a hand gently cupped his chin and prompted his chin up. Yeosang allowed it, staring off to the side of the man’s head so he wouldn’t meet Seonghwa’s eyes.

“Why will you not look at me, Kang Yeosang? Are you afraid of me?”

Yeosang licked his lips, wishing his throat didn’t feel so dry. “Given you know my name,” he murmured, voice low, “And the …  _ compromising situation _ you spotted me in, I would be a fool not to.”

“So it is not a result of my status as Crowned Prince?” Seonghwa questioned. His tone lay soft, not an ounce of malice or accusation within it.

“P-perhaps, Your Majesty.” It took some effort to finally drag his eyes to Seonghwa’s, meeting his gaze through the darkness. Though drenched in shadow, the flickering flame of the lantern caught his eyes enough to make them known. “I am a mere servant, and you are a prince; nowhere in my life did I ever expect to end up here.”

“I wish I had not fled,” Seonghwa suddenly blurted, a brow raising. “You were moaning my name; I could hear you from the hall. You were … not what I expected to find within that room.”

Yeosang’s heart skipped a beat. “I-is that a bad thing?” He asked, voice small.

“Not at all, Kang Yeosang, not at all.” Seonghwa hesitated, the prince so close to Yeosang’s face he could smell fresh lemon upon his breath. Either could have leaned forward in that moment to initiate a kiss. But, neither completed that course of action, and Yeosang’s knees wobbled as the dark-haired man finally stepped away from him. “I wish to do this properly, if you would allow me to.”

He stared, dumbfounded. “Properly …?”

“Court you, as a proper prince does.” 

His knees really did give out, Seonghwa catching him gently before he collapsed upon the ground. The prince held him against his chest and it was, in truth, the first true hug Yeosang had ever experienced. He felt safe and warm and … disappointed when he realized it would need to end.

“Y-your Majesty, I am just a servant. I am not even worthy to stand before you.”

“Technically, I am holding you, Kang Yeosang.” Seonghwa smiled down at him, and perhaps this became the moment Yeosang first felt a twinge of love within. “I would like to show you that you are worth so much more, as well as get to know you.” He allowed Yeosang to stand on his own once again, his hands trembling against Seonghwa’s arm. “If you will allow me, that is.”

For fear of his voice cracking, Yeosang answered with a nod, and thus set into motion a series of events that would change his life forever.

xxx

Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly (Yeosang hadn’t decided just yet), things did not change the first few weeks. Seonghwa did not call upon him at all in the beginning, and then the prince was sent away to a nearby kingdom for political business. Yeosang tried his hardest not to think of him as he continued about his duties. He only managed to knick his finger with a butcher knife once, which would’ve been the only accident if you didn’t count falling into the laundry pond or accidentally overcooking a meal one evening. 

Ultimately, Yeosang chose to confide in the one friend he did have. A man by the name of Jung Wooyoung, the same age as he, a servant who had arrived five years prior. Someone who shared a similar situation as well.

They were outside in the servant’s garden enjoying their momentary lunch break when Yeosang finally chose to say something.

“The Prince wishes to court me, and I don’t know what to do.” Yeosang would admit, he should’ve waited until Wooyoung finished drinking his tea before bringing it up.

Wooyoung spluttered, launching into a coughing fit. “E- _ excuse _ me? Did I hear you right?”

“Yes,” he responded, folding his hands upon his thighs. “It came as … quite the surprise for me as well. I thought I could confide in you, considering your situation.”

The other servant did a quick scan around them, making sure no other soul would be able to overhear their conversation. Finally, Wooyoung fixed him with a look of disbelief. “My situation is very,  _ very _ different, Yeosang. I am courting a Lord. A prince is … a whole other field! Are you sure?”

“I am certain; I even have a letter to prove it.” Yeosang’s cheeks began to burn. “And … he may have caught me i-in the room.”

“What in the heavens was he doing near there?”

“ _ That’s _ the part you’re worried about?” He chuckled softly. His body began to relax once more. “I don’t know, but he did, and then he invited me to chat.”

“Are you sure it isn’t a trap?” Wooyoung murmured, his expression shifting to genuine concern. “Something about it seems … off.”

“Somehow … I trust him,” he whispered, inhaling quietly, “Which is why I could really use any advice you have to offer. Anything is fine.”

“Don’t get caught.” His tone was completely serious. “They will throw you into the dungeons without remorse, or they’ll ship you off to a new land in the hope that it puts a stop to it.” Wooyoung sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “I hate to be the voice of reason here, because well, it’s me but—he’s also the Crowned Prince, Yeosang. He has a duty to his people.”

Yeosang bulked a bit at this, his frown looking more like a pout. “He summoned me first. But … I understand.” He inhaled shakily. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

xxx

Seonghwa did not return for nearly two fortnights, and Yeosang found irony in such a measure of time. Where Seonghwa wished to wait for Yeosang, he was now doing the same. The servant threw himself into duties like normal and tried not to let what had occurred seep too deeply within. Focusing on it would only make his heart grow weak. Seonghwa could not control when and where he needed to go for political endeavors but Yeosang could not help the little kernel of unease that popped within. So, despite carrying on like normal, his concerns piled up endlessly with each passing day. Until, finally, Seonghwa arrived with the passing of evening into twilight.

Yeosang cursed the Gods for putting him on gate duty that evening.

Despite it being just before midnight, the trumpets still sounded across the field. A faint hint of light appeared upon the horizon, just before the tree line of a great forest behind the castle. Yeosang, who had grown used to quiet nights as the gate guard, scrambled to his feet. He could hear the galloping of hooves despite the Prince’s Circle being nearly four acres away. The servant shoved his arms into the sleeves of an official’s robe, a garment shared by the other gate guards, and barely had enough sense to remember to light the lanterns on either side. Then, he knelt before the polished iron gate and awaited their approach.

The first to arrive was Seonghwa’s Head Guard, a man by the name of Kim Hongjoong. Though small in stature, his energy carried more charisma and courage than anyone else currently on castle grounds. Were you to converse with him outside of guard duty, you would assume he happened to be the Crowned Prince of Aurora. 

He appeared before Yeosang upon a beautiful brown stallion, a horse the servant had had the pleasure of attending to on multiple occasions. Yeosang shifted so his gaze would be upon the horse’s legs rather than Hongjoong’s face.

“Ah, Gatekeeper! Surely you haven’t allowed them to leave you out here in the chilly summer air,” Hongjoong greeted, pulling on his steed’s reins to steady him.

“It is alright; I quite enjoy the night air,” he responded.

“You sure are an interesting one.” Hongjoong chuckled softly. “I am here to grant permission to open the gates.”

Yeosang dipped his head in acknowledgement and rose to his feet, rolling his sleeves up. His fingers curled around the cool metal and he readjusted his weight so he could finally begin squeaking the gates open.

By the time he finished, the rest of the Prince’s Circle had arrived. But, they were not alone. Two new guards on steeds the color of onyx flanked a carriage at the back. Seonghwa rode before it, and though Yeosang couldn’t get a good glimpse of his face, he could tell by his posture that he had grown weary. The Prince would most likely retire to his quarters for the evening upon getting settled within the castle.

Eventually, the prince stopped before him, the legs of his gorgeous white mare hovering into Yeosang’s vision. He did not examine him, but he could see the tassels from his riding coat and the gleam of silver along his ankles as it caught in the flicker of the lanterns. 

“Gatekeeper,” Seonghwa addressed him, “Please guide our visitors to the stable. We will see to the gate.”

Yeosang, despite knowing he had no reason to feel upset, felt so anyway. His gaze swiveled to the carriage beyond Seonghwa and he nodded, barely daring to observe the Crowned Prince via his peripherals. The man’s face carried exhaustion and his shoulders appeared to droop lower with every second. But, and maybe this was just his imagination, he appeared to be watching Yeosang with interest. He swallowed that thought down, however, knowing there was no time to ponder over it.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” He walked through the gates and heard the rolling movement of the carriage, one of the horses pulling it whinnying quietly. Yeosang plucked a lantern from the ground and quickly lit it, before leading the visiting party around the edge of the castle. His thoughts swam with possibilities but, deep down, he knew. The carriage bore the symbol of a nearby kingdom, a kingdom that possessed a female heir. They were here with a purpose, and Yeosang wished he could ignore the pang of sadness within.

xxx

Days passed, with Yeosang left to simmer in uncertainty. His assumption had been correct; the princess of a nearby kingdom had arrived the the intent of winning over Seonghwa’s heart. Seonghwa, however, looked less than intrigued by her and her antics. But it still saddened him to see a stray touch here or a heated glance there during the dinners the whole week she visited. Yeosang felt like such a fool for getting his hopes up with each passing hour. He was a servant; Seonghwa was a prince. That much had not changed, and he felt foolish for ever believing it could.

The night she was sent off, things changed. 

Yeosang, tired from a long day of duties, stumbled into his tiny room to find a roll of parchment upon his pillow; it was bound in the same golden ribbon. He opened it with caution, not really sure what to expect.

‘ _ Kang Yeosang, I apologize for treating you so coldly these last few days. You deserve an explanation and a better show of appreciation, and I am truly sorry if I have made you worry over what we discussed. I will be waiting in the same location as before, should you wish to hear me out. I will wait for as long as I need to. —Park Seonghwa. _ ’

Despite the tiredness plaguing his bones, and the clear opportunity to put a stop to all of this before it truly began, Yeosang wasted no time in making his way upstairs. The curtains were drawn shut this time, forcing the servant to peel them open to peek beyond. Seonghwa had his back against the railing this time, eyes trained on the space where someone would emerge. A soft smile bloomed across his features upon the sight of Yeosang peering at him. 

He swallowed his nerves, shuffling through the curtains and tucking them back into position behind him.

“You are here,” Seonghwa said softly.

“I am here,” he replied.

Seonghwa explained how the neighboring kingdom wished to find a suitable heir for their daughter, the Crowned Princess. He had entertained her for a week but his disinterest had been clear, and he made certain she communicated this back to her family.  _ I told you I wished to court you properly, remember?  _

Yeosang felt guilty for doubting him, especially considering just how genuine he had been beforehand.

They spoke well into the night, Seonghwa sharing stories from the time he had been gone and Yeosang recounting the tale of his fall into the laundry pond. They laughed and they smiled, and despite their conversation lasting only a few hours, he felt their relationship had progressed so much in such a small span of time.

Only when the morning doves flew overhead did Yeosang realize what time it was. Seonghwa apologized profusely for keeping him so late, but Yeosang just shook his head in response.

“Conversation with you is worth it,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “Even if I stumble in my chores later, it will be worth it.”

Seonghwa observed him silently for a handful of seconds. “You truly have a way of making my heart skip a beat, Kang Yeosang.”

His cheeks flooded with heat. “You can call me Yeosang,” he suddenly said, meeting Seonghwa’s gentle eyes. “Just Yeosang is fine.”

“Then, I would grant you permission to call me Seonghwa.”

“Oh heavens, no! If someone overheard me, I would be in a mess of trouble,” Yeosang blurted, raising his hands.

The prince reached out, flattening their palms together, and Yeosang’s heart went wild. “Just the two of us then; no more calling me Your Majesty beyond those curtains.” His fingers parted to gently grip Yeosang’s hand but he did not move closer. “Promise me?”

Yeosang swallowed his nerves. Part of him, again, couldn’t believe this was happening. The other part wanted to scream over just how fairytale-esque it seemed. But, he relented, his own fingers linking with Seonghwa’s. “I … I promise.” He inhaled softly. “Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa beamed at the sound of his name, and this became the second time Yeosang could recall he felt a pang of love within his chest.

Thus, the duo began to meet upon the balcony every single night, proceeding to speak until sunlight touched the horizon and they were forced back into their social standings. Yeosang looked forward to nothing more in those first few months than listening to Seonghwa ramble about some far off land he would most likely never see. 

And, steadily, he felt himself fall in love.

xxx

Weeks later, long after their meetings fell into normalcy, it happened.

Summer had turned to the beginnings of fall, leaves affected by flameless heat. The bite of autumn air did nothing to keep them apart, but Yeosang knew when the snow fell that their meetings would grow ever harder. He dreaded those days despite knowing they had plenty of time to work around it.

This particular evening carried a little more warmth than the pair had been used to lately. The heat prompted a final appearance of fireflies within the garden, and the gentle sounds of frogs and crickets created the music for their evening. A romantic way for sure but still not how the servant had expected such a thing to go.

Yeosang, rambling away about some story he was certain had become boring, suddenly became acutely aware of Seonghwa’s presence. His words stuttered to a halt, lips pressing together. Around them, the energy changed, but not in a negative way. The prince cocked his head at the sudden silence and he fixed Yeosang with a searching gaze. He did not question why but Yeosang was no fool. 

Seonghwa took the opportunity he had been searching for. Yeosang expected it, deep down, but it still surprised him. The prince straightened himself back into standing and met his eyes. Only a moment passed before an arm snaked around Yeosang’s waist, pulling him flush against Seonghwa’s body. Though their forms were not far in stature, he suddenly felt so much smaller. Perhaps this came with the realization that Yeosang had been underfed while Seonghwa still boasted regular nutrition from the kitchens. But, he could not find it within him to complain.

Seonghwa was leagues warmer than the air around them. 

He leaned in close and Yeosang once again smelled a hint of lemon. His other hand came up, startling him a bit as hot fingertips brushed the bottom of his chin and prompted it up. Seonghwa smiled softly at him, the hand around his waist caressing Yeosang’s hip.

“May I kiss you?” He questioned quietly. 

Yeosang felt breathless before Seonghwa even finished speaking. Not trusting his voice, he offered the tiniest nod. This was the only invitation his prince needed. Seonghwa’s eyes grew softer and he finally leaned in. His lips were soft compared to Yeosang’s chapped ones and he barely had time to fret over how unpleasant Seonghwa most likely found it. But this didn’t seem to bother him and the other man only grew more confident. The fingers upon his chin ghosted along his jawline, softly teasing at his ear, before they laced into his hair so Seonghwa could maneuver his head how he saw fit. Lemon flooded his senses, mixed with the natural earthy smell from the expensive soaps the prince often bathed in, and Yeosang’s mind grew dizzy.

For someone who carried experience in kissing, what they were doing would likely fall as a three out of ten on the imaginary scale. Most of the enjoyment came from how Seonghwa held him, close and tight, like he would evaporate if the prince loosened his grip for even a second. It lasted only a firefly’s blink, and then Seonghwa was pulling away. Yeosang involuntarily followed, lashes fluttering as a whole cascade of emotions crashed upon him. (He had to will little Sang to stay calm too.)

To anyone else, the kiss would be short and unpleasant. But for Yeosang, it had been his first, and he knew he would cherish it.

“... The look on your face. Am I … your first?” Seonghwa murmured quietly, smoothing a stray strand of hair upon Yeosang’s head.

“O-of course. Where would I find time for such a thing?” He responded, pressing his fingertips lightly against the prince’s chest. Faintly, he could feel Seonghwa’s heartbeat despite the fabric separating them; it had sped up considerably.

“What about the handsome servant you often interact with?” Despite the question being so blunt, Yeosang was surprisingly not bothered by the straightforwardness of it. “Surely you’ve played around a little, given … that night.”

Yeosang’s entire face grew bright pink. “Y-you promised not to bring that up again!” He wished he could evaporate in that moment. “B-besides, I don’t need to kiss someone to explore my body and my …  _ needs _ .” 

Seonghwa just laughed at him. But, his expression grew semi-serious within a moment or two. “Would you tell me those needs, if I asked?”

Here, Yeosang realized they had waded into dangerous territory. With his mind still clinging to the scent of Seonghwa all around him, he knew that, in this moment, everything had potential to change. Whether the servant truly wanted that or not was another thing. It felt … wrong, in a way. Seonghwa, a beautiful, articulate man, wishing to share a bed with Yeosang, a mere servant? He had done nothing in his life to deserve such treatment and yet here he was, living every peasant and noblewoman’s dream. 

Swallowing quietly, Yeosang finally dared to meet his eyes. “Perhaps, on a night other than this one. If you ask me again.”

The answer appeared to satisfy Seonghwa though he could still see the faint trace of disappointment in the prince’s eyes. However, he didn’t push it, and Yeosang’s respect and admiration for him only grew.

“Then, another night,” he replied softly, “I will ask again when I know you are ready.”

Yeosang couldn’t tell if he was excited or terrified for that.

xxx

The first snow brought about a change in their meeting location. Yeosang profusely refused at Seonghwa’s initial suggestion, but upon the storage room being mentioned, gave in immediately. He, and only he, had explicit permission to bring Seonghwa’s evening tea up from that night onward. They had done well at keeping their meetings and progressing relationship a secret from all around them. Not a soul thought twice of Seonghwa’s sudden request, but perhaps this came with the previous servant—an elderly woman who often kept to herself—retiring from her duties. 

Yeosang learned Seonghwa had had a hand in that months later.

So, Yeosang gathered up all of the requested items. A specialty tea from a land across the sea, a strawberry tart, and several sugar cubes. Many would assume a prince would require more but Yeosang knew better. Seonghwa asked for little but gave much.

WIth no reason to think he’d ever set foot in the prince’s quarters, Yeosang had never bothered with fantasizing over it. He knew it would be grand but never in his wildest dreams would he ever come up with the reality before him.

Seonghwa’s bedroom door was carved from a darker wood, the crest of their kingdom—a swooping crane—right in the center. He knocked twice, announcing his arrival with a soft, “Your Majesty.”

A faint shuffle could be heard beyond the wood, Yeosang’s ears catching the soft pad of feet. The handle before him turned and the door swung open, revealing Seonghwa in a long black robe clasped shut by a single hand on his chest. “Ah, Yeosang!” He greeted, “Do come in.”

He accepted the invitation with a small dip of his head. Stepping onto Seonghwa’s room, he felt he had entered another world entirely. The same golden curtains found at the end of the hall were draped over a bed larger than anything Yeosang had ever seen, settled upon the far wall. Elegantly carved furniture dotted the room, ranging from a desk nearest him, a table at the center with two chairs, two couches occupying both side walls, and a nightstand on either side of the beautiful bed. Seonghwa’s tastes fell in the realm of gold and navy, each piece of furniture matching that with exquisite navy blue velvet and golden trim. A mere pillow in that room could most likely pay for all of Yeosang’s debts.

Yet, he felt no upset. He was just awestruck over such a vast use of space. 

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” Seonghwa said behind him.

“Not much,” Yeosang breathed, eyes still scanning every inch he could see. “I think your bed is bigger than my entire room.”

“Ah, that was insensitive of me, I apologize.” Seonghwa appeared next to him, carefully working the tray of food and drink from his grasp. He settled it upon the table and Yeosang pretended he couldn’t see the peek of pretty skin from the robe clinging to his body.

“It’s alright, I’m not upset. Just … amazed.” Yeosang hummed softly. “You have good taste.”

Seonghwa laughed and the sound instantly uplifted his spirit, despite the particular rough day he had experienced. The prince didn’t even bother touching the tea and instead made his way to the bed, patting the spot next to him. “Join me for a bit?”

Yeosang replied by accepting the invitation, settling next to Seonghwa. It was, without a doubt, the most comfortable thing he had ever been given the privilege of sitting upon. His fingers ghosted along the soft velvet and he felt the feathers beneath the fabric shift at his touch. He inhaled softly, trying not to think about just how much the blanket had cost. 

“I hope your duties have not been too hard,” Seonghwa said, making him jump slightly. 

Yeosang folded his hands into his lap and looked to the prince. “Nothing too tough, though it has grown harder to finish laundry with the pond frozen over. But we can’t control that,” he laughed.

“So are you the one responsible for sticking icicles in my socks?” Seonghwa teased, leaning back on his palms.

“Of course not! We brought in the cauldron from the storagehouse for yet another year.” He did everything he could to avoid the obvious show of skin. “If someone is putting ice in your socks, I’ll try to get to the bottom of it.”

“Hmm … tempting.” Seonghwa’s head cocked to the side. “Have you been getting enough sleep, Yeosang? Your features seem a bit pale this evening.”

“No,” he admitted, “But it is worth it. Spending my nights speaking with you is worth it. I would say my paleness stems from the cold, however, not my lack of sleep. We have not been given new winter blankets in close to three years.” Yeosang hummed quietly but his tone was not accusatory.

Seonghwa didn’t respond at first, his eyes shifting. Yeosang could tell the gears were moving in his mind and, hoping to distract him in case it was anything negative, pressed a hand over the top of Seonghwa’s. The prince looked to him with a blink.

“Don’t fret; you’ll get worry lines,” Yeosang scolded gently.

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of Seonghwa’s mouth, and he shifted his body so he could be pressed against Yeosang’s side. He wrapped an arm around the small servant’s waist and pulled him close. “If I were destined for worry lines, I would already have them.” Seonghwa lowered his head and gently kissed Yeosang’s birthmark. “May I share a thought with you, Yeosang?”

“You have no reason to ask,” he replied.

“I do,” Seonghwa answered, instead moving to kiss Yeosang’s forehead. “You are a person with your own boundaries too; we’ve been over this.”

“I ... “ They had been over this many times already, but it still hovered as something Yeosang never quite grew used to. Being offered control over what was hurled at him and how his body was treated carried luxury for a servant; he was convinced Seonghwa still didn’t understand the weight of it. “Yes, you may.”

Seonghwa took a breath. “I long for nothing more than to share this bed with you. The winter nights can be … quite chilly.”

Nervousness coiled unpleasantly in his stomach as the gravity of the situation washed over him. Yeosang recognized what Seonghwa was implying almost immediately. Part of him wanted to know more, and the other part screeched for him to excuse himself for the evening. Heart did not communicate correctly with … lower half.

“Ah, I apologize,” Seonghwa murmured, breaking him from his reverie, “I did not mean to overstep my boundaries.”

“No!” Yeosang blurted, catching him by surprise. “You didn’t. I’m just … nervous.”

This seemed to refuel Seonghwa’s resolve, and he brought up his other hand to thumb Yeosang’s chin. He tilted the servant’s head so they were forced to look one another in the eye. “Nervous about what, Yeosang? Your body? Your status? Neither of those things matter to me.”

Yeosang didn’t answer.

“I have watched you grow up just as much as you have watched me. You have always caught my attention, but I was never allowed to speak with you despite you being the only other child near my age. Now that I am an adult … I regret every second I have not spent in your presence.”

Yeosang felt like crying, but not from sadness. His heart clenched at the weight of Seonghwa’s words and he couldn’t stop them from watering at the sight of such a gentle expression on the prince’s features.

“I have loved you long before you ever loved yourself, and I will continue to do so until the universe decides I will breathe my final breath. You need not accept these feelings now, but I wish to share them with you.” Seonghwa finished his confession with soft eyes and a thumb rising up to gently swipe his tears away. 

“I-I—but—our s-stations!” Yeosang finally sobbed, tears spilling down his cheeks. Seonghwa cooed softly, dabbing at his face even as he cried. 

“As I said, Yeosang, you need not accept them now. But when you do … I promise things will work out. I will make it so.” 

And, despite his heart feeling it would burst, Yeosang knew he could trust him. Words and feelings simmered within him but he could not find a voice with which to speak them. Seonghwa did not ask for one though, and instead held him in silence until he finished crying.

Now Yeosang just needed to admit his own feelings to himself as well.

xxx

The next evening, when Yeosang returned from an errand that forced him out into the city, he entered his room to a neatly folded bundle at the end of his bed. The Head Maid explained they had finally been gifted new winter blankets for the season; Yeosang knew the culprit immediately. Despite everyone receiving a blanket, Yeosang realized his was just a bit different from what everyone else had; his contained a layer of feathers.

He smiled; it was the first gift he’d ever received.

xxx

Traveling in the winter months had long become an uncommon practice. Forcing horses, much less horses pulling wagons, through snow-covered forests had always been more work than reward. But, one could not control the flow of war and famine in upon a land. So nearly a month after the first snowfall, Seonghwa and his parents were called to council by their neighboring kingdoms to discuss the push of a far northern monarchy trampling one of their allies lands. 

The night before his departure, Seonghwa had invited Yeosang to his room like normal. He couldn’t help the weird churning in his stomach as they lounged upon one of the sofas, Yeosang leaning against him while Seonghwa described the land currently doing the attacking. Their hands sat linked together between them, the prince swinging his hand animatedly while he shared his concerns with the servant. Really, Seonghwa could’ve rambled off the recipe for a stew and Yeosang would’ve listened without question; he enjoyed the luxury of just hearing him speak.

Seonghwa eventually trailed off, propping his chin atop his fingers. “I wish for nothing more than to stay home, but I know the other councils may see it as rude if I do not show.”

“You could remain here, should you wish,” Yeosang insisted. 

The other man laughed, squeezing Yeosang’s hand gently. “I would give anything for such a freedom but I have a duty as Crowned Prince.”

Yeosang laughed too, albeit quieter. “I have feigned sickness many times to get out of duties. Perhaps you just lacked a bad influence in your childhood.”

Seonghwa’s brows raised at his admittance. “You could get in trouble for that, you know.” His voice had lowered an octave, making the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Though not in any real danger of disciplinary action, Yeosang had to admit he found pleasure in the idea of it—or maybe it came with the thought of occurring at Seonghwa’s hands.

“Oh my… are you going to punish me?” Yeosang questioned, fluttering his lashes innocently; the atmosphere around their bodies shifted. Seconds of silence passed as the prince struggled with what had been said. Though the invitation had been clear, Yeosang sensed he would not accept it without explicit wording.

Seonghwa beat him to it. 

“Is this one of your  _ needs, _ dear Yeosang?” His tone, still low, excited Yeosang more than he would ever dare admit out loud. But, Seonghwa in all his keen observation, caught onto this immediately. “Do you like it when my voice is low? You do, don’t you.”

Yeosang worried at his lip, and his legs shuffled involuntarily. “... Perhaps I do.”

Seonghwa kissed him then, forcing the tiniest gasp past his lips. The prince swallowed that up too, teeth teasing at his lower one. Just as Yeosang expected, a hand cupped the back of his head and guided him closer, Seonghwa’s tongue pressing to the corner of his mouth. Yeosang allowed him to tease his lips apart, ghosting along his teeth. He mewled in an almost pathetic way and something in Seonghwa seemed to snap. The prince gently guided him back, pressing him into the soft velvet cushions of the couch. Their kiss broke only for a moment as the man above him readjusted, allowing Yeosang to observe the clear want upon Seonghwa’s features.

That boosted his confidence beyond measure.

Then Seonghwa was kissing him once again, tongue diving into his mouth with fervor. Seonghwa kissed how he spoke, soft but powerful, and it sent the poor servant’s mind spiraling down. He proceeded to knock Yeosang’s legs apart and settled himself between them, forcing one of his feet to press upon the cool floor for support. Yeosang’s arms flung to wrap around Seonghwa’s shoulders, fingertips trembling against the latter’s spine as the gravity of everything about to happen crashed down upon him. 

Weaseling an arm beneath Yeosang’s side, Seonghwa used the new angle to tip his head back ever further. He explored every bit of Yeosang’s mouth he could reach, tracing his teeth and stroking along his tongue as if to entice it into play. Yeosang wanted to, truthfully, but it was sort of hard to focus when the air was literally being stolen from your lungs. This only grew tougher when Seonghwa trailed a hand down his chest, parting the rough fabric of his servant robes and arriving at the hem of his shirt. Warm fingertips ghosted along the stripe of skin peeking from between pants and shirt and a desperate cry bubbled from within. 

Seonghwa finally offered him mercy, breaking their kiss so Yeosang could gasp ungracefully for air. Drops of saliva fell upon his chin and that alone made him shudder. But, the prince did not allow him reprieve for long, sliding between the waistline of his pants and warm skin. Yeosang squeaked, and Seonghwa’s eyes sought out his own. Flame from the nearby fireplace flickered within, making him look so much more intense than he actually was. Then Seonghwa traced his shaft with deft fingers, tsking softly at whatever he discovered. 

“Hard from just a kiss? How naughty.” His voice carried the same low tone.

Yeosang blushed, squirming beneath Seonghw’s gaze. 

But the prince did not prompt a response out of him, instead dipping to kiss him for the third time that evening. He kissed Yeosang like he may never get to do it again, the action forcing him to arch into Seonghwa’s hand. Seonghwa gripped his shaft suddenly, giving it a light squeeze. Yeosang, who had only ever experimented with himself, couldn’t stop the moan his prince forced out of him. The latter drank it in without hesitation.

Seonghwa pumped him slowly, teasing him to full hardness. Yeosang forced their mouths apart so he could breathe.

“S-seonghwa,” he gasped. 

The teasing halted, Seonghwa searching his features. “Yes, Yeosang?”

Though he could ask for anything in that moment, knowing Seonghwa would give it without hesitation, nerves still sparked to life in his stomach. He felt so much smaller then, just staring up at him while his eyes threatened to spill with tears over how overwhelming felt already. But Yeosang knew the prince wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he did something he wasn’t comfortable with and he didn’t want that in the slightest.

“I-I don’t,” he murmured, lowering his arms so he could softly cup Seonghwa’s face, “I don’t like this position.”

“You have no reason to be nervous admitting that, Yeosang.” The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile. “Is there something else you would desire, then?”

Yeosang recalled all of his fantasies in that moment. There were a hundred different ways he’d dreamt of how this would happen. Some of them involved the bed, some of them involved the garden, and some of them even involved the same storehouse that sparked this whole thing. But there was one he recalled above all, and his cheeks grew hot at the realization that he may finally be able to experience it. Taking a deep breath, he responded.

“I want … I want to sit in your lap. I want to face you, as equals.” Not that the position they were in was awful, but something about it made Yeosang feel smaller than he would’ve liked.

Luckily, Seonghwa was not bothered by his admission. 

Instead, he withdrew his hand from Yeosang’s pants and went about untangling their bodies. He pulled away and shuffled to his feet but his expression still remained soft. Yeosang missed the warmth of him immediately, the winter chill rushing back to undo Seonghwa’s work. 

“May I combine your idea with one of my own, Yeosang?” Seonghwa murmured, crouching beside him.

Yeosang’s head tilted and curiosity bloomed in his chest. “O-of course.”

Seonghwa responded by slipping his arms beneath the servant’s body and lifting him from the couch. A bit of flailing and readjusting later, and Yeosang had his arms wrapped around Seonghwa’s shoulders to steady himself. The prince kissed his nose but did not answer his tiny ‘ _ why? _ ’ Instead, he carried him towards the door just beyond the couch; Yeosang knew it was the bathroom but he had never been within it. Seonghwa toed the door open and revealed a room that nearly matched the size of his actual room, making Yeosang’s jaw drop.

Immediately, the scent of rose and jasmine crashed over him. It was heady and thick, flowing from the room and caressing his body. The walls, painted in golden accents, caught the flicker of several candles scattered about the room. A navy runner fringed with gold spanned from the doorway to a large washtub opposite them. Rose petals lay scattered along it and, for something so out of season, Yeosang wondered how much he had paid at the market for them. Beyond this, he could see a few upon the edge of the washtub, with just the faintest hint of steam curling from the top.

Hot water.  _ An actual warm bath.  _

Yeosang’s head whipped back to Seonghwa’s face as realization set in. “A-are you serious?”

“Is it romantic enough?” The prince questioned. “I know many novels tell of first times upon satin sheets and a touch of alcohol. Perhaps I should’ve arranged something nicer …”

“No!” He protested. “This—this is enough.  _ More _ than enough. I cannot recall a time I’ve ever been fortunate enough to experience a warm bath so … this is a luxury for me.” Yeosang averted his gaze. “And … you’re here. What more can I ask for?”

“Who taught you to have such a way with words?” Seonghwa whispered, finally advancing towards the washtub. As they drew closer, Yeosang spotted the various soaps and perfumes dotting a wooden ledge at the back. A set of stairs occupied the left side, allowing easy access to the tub. It was big, probably matching the size of his entire room in the servant’s quarters. Yeosang could see even the water contained a few rose petals; Seonghwa had really made an effort. The smell of jade grew intoxicating.

Nearing the edge, Seonghwa settled him upon it. He made sure the servant could support himself before straightening back up. Yeosang’s eyes followed as the prince untied his robe, the fabric falling open to reveal the expanse of his chest. His jaw dropped. He knew he would have to see the other man naked to sleep with him but, deep down, he had never expected it to actually happen. Seonghwa’s collar bones were framed in just the right amount of shadow, his nipples hard at the cold air around them. His stomach, though not quite toned, was exquisite and Yeosang wanted nothing more than to touch it. Yeosang allowed his eyes to trail lower, enjoying the sight of Seonghwa’s hip bones as well. He swallowed as his searching gaze reached the prince’s length. 

It was elegant, just like the man who owned it. Long and thin, the tip already glistening with need, Yeosang was nearly overpowered with the urge to crawl forth for a taste.

Seonghwa, sensing this, chuckled. He dropped the robe to the floor but did not advance. “Your expression suggests you enjoy what you see.”

Yeosang flushed.

“Would you like for me to remove your clothing as well? Or will you put on a bit of a show for me?” How such words could be said so casually, especially by a prince that was supposed to remain “pure” in the eyes of others, was beyond him; they succeeded in making his own hardness twitch with interest.

“I-I can do it,” he responded, hands rising to the first button on his shirt. Though Yeosang stripped down himself, he could feel Seonghwa’s eyes helping him along. The burning weight of the man’s gaze upon him made him squirm, only serving to work excitement into his frame. Yeosang dropped his shirt to the floor and Seonghwa gasped softly. Where Seonghwa’s body lacked a single mark, Yeosang’s carried years of heavy chores and abuse at the hands of others. A mess of thin scars and bruises in the final stages of healing dotted his chest. 

His left hip bore the beginnings of a particularly nasty scar, one that spiraled around the back of his thigh and ended just above his knee. It revealed itself as Yeosang carefully untied the strings holding his pants up. Seonghwa’s eyes followed it and though he looked ready to question just where it came from he ultimately chose not to. Yeosang would’ve told him, had he done so. But, nothing could have been done to punish the culprit and this, perhaps, became the reason for the prince’s silence.

Now, what he was doing wasn’t meant to come across as a show but Seonghwa seemed to be enjoying it regardless. His eyes followed every movement Yeosang made with thinly veiled hunger, wetting his lips as he went. The prince grasped his own length, pumping it a few times to combat the cold air around them. 

Yeosang let his pants drop the rest of the way with shaking hands. Upon doing so, he straightened up, shyly covering his cock. Seonghwa’s expression softened and he crossed the space between them, his own hands coming up to gently guide them away. His eyes flicked down and Yeosang watched a brow raise as he admired what was being offered. Yeosang wasn’t nearly as impressive in length or even size but Seonghwa didn’t make him feel bad for it, instead cooing softly over how cute he was.

“I am one lucky man,” the prince insisted. He was not given a chance to respond, Seonghwa literally sweeping him off his feet. Yeosang went with a yelp, arms flying to wrap around his chest so he didn’t fall. “I will never let you fall, Yeosang. I promise.”

_ But you already made me fall for you. _

Seonghwa wasted no time in moving both of them into the tub. His feet hit the water first, the difference in temperature sending a shiver throughout his body. For Seonghwa, the water most likely felt just right. But for Yeosang, who had not ever been given the luxury of a hot bath, it felt scalding upon his skin. The feeling didn’t last long, however, and luckily his partner caught on to his discomfort instantaneously. They eased into the tub slowly, Seonghwa giving Yeosang a chance to adjust with every inch. His hands eased into the hot liquid as the fresh scent of jasmine and rose consumed his senses once more. 

Seonghwa maneuvered them to a ledge along the back edge of the tub and sank down upon it, putting the water up to mid-chest. The prince shifted him around so the servant was face to face with him, forcing his knees on either side of the man’s lap. Yeosang relaxed against him as the hot water soothed him to the bone, dropping his forehead to Seonghwa’s shoulder. The other man chuckled, kissing his birthmark for the second time that evening.

“I cannot wait to spoil you,” he murmured. 

“W-wha—?” Yeosang’s words cut off as Seonghwa snaked a hand around his back, slotting his palm against one of the servant’s cheeks and proceeding to give it a hard squeeze. It was such a simple action but it succeeded in short circuiting the link between brain and tongue. Seonghwa’s other hand dipped between them and enveloped his cock, giving it a few quick pumps. The servant cried out softly, yanking his head back. Seonghwa chuckled softly and allowed his thumb to circle Yeosang’s slit, the combined heat from the water and Seonghwa himself already teasing him to oversensitivity.

“That day, what you were doing in the storage room … Do you prepare yourself often?” Seonghwa’s voice, low and deep, made him squirm. “How many times have you gotten off to the thought of me, hm? Playing with yourself, moaning without me … I wish to know.” The prince allowed no time between his words and dipping his fingers into the curve of Yeosang’s ass, prodding at his entrance with light insistence. 

“W-wait. That’s dirty,” Yeosang mumbled, wishing he could draw his legs closed.

“We’re in the washtub, Yeosang,” Seonghwa laughed, giving him yet another squeeze.

He swallowed, pressing trembling fingertips to the prince’s chest. “... Yes. Many times.” Oh how he wished he could crawl into a hole and disappear. 

Seonghwa hummed in approval, and Yeosang realized that having him admit his attraction brought him enjoyment. He couldn’t be too upset though, not when one of the fingers teasing his entrance slowly breached the ring of muscle. It wiggled into place without much resistance—they didn’t these days—and the prince wasted no time in exploring just as he had during their kiss. Yeosang snapped his eyes shut, unable to look Seonghwa in the eyes as his body was gently worked open. 

After a bit of this, Seonghwa worked a second finger into his body. He chose this time to press their lengths together as well, managing to wrap a hand around both of them. Yeosang whimpered as he began to pump the two of them together, slow at first. Then the prince caught on to how his cries grew louder the quicker he moved, taking full advantage of it. 

Yeosang sent a silent prayer to the gods above that attending to his own needs had lengthened his stamina a bit. He didn’t come embarrassingly fast despite his body straining for it. The servant did come close when a third and final finger worked its way into him but he held it together, Seonghwa having to coax him into relaxing once more.

“Are you close?” The prince asked.

His response came as a nod but Seonghwa did not laugh. Instead, Seonghwa let go of his cock, and Yeosang released a scandalized gasp as his high retreated from him. The other man’s expression carried amusement and he leaned forward to gently kiss Yeosang’s nose.

“You will not be left desperate long, I assure you.” Seonghwa slipped his fingers free, Yeosang’s back arching at the sudden emptiness left behind. “Are you ready for this? We can stop, if you wish.”

“You are bold to ask such a thing,” Yeosang responded, voice trembling. “I need you more than anything in the whole land.”

“Ah, how romantic.” Hands slipped beneath his thighs, and Yeosang allowed Seonghwa to guide him into position. He rose onto his knees and pressed their chests closer, scooting up until Seonghwa’s tip slipped against his hole. This forced the prince to tilt his head back a bit to still properly view his face. Yeosang felt Seonghwa pull one of his cheeks to the side, using his other hand to guide himself against the servant’s entrance. 

In a silent agreement, Yeosang allowed himself to slowly drop. The initial breach burned, making him wince, and Seonghwa apologized for the lack of a proper lubricant. But they took it slow, Seonghwa allowing Yeosang to go at a pace comfortable for him. About halfway, he leaned down to capture Seonghwa’s lips with his own and allowed the prince to distract him with it. TIme lost all meaning in that moment, and even when Yeosang had settled flush against Seonghwa’s thighs once again, their lips did not part. Yeosang’s hands rose to cup the other man’s face as he took over the kiss and perhaps Seonghwa realized here what he truly meant as equals.

But even a patient prince had limits, and after a good two minutes of this, he eventually pulled away. He left Yeosang panting and heavy-lidded, heat and arousal keeping his face a permanent shade of pink. Seonghwa rolled his hips gently, not quite a thrust, but enough to get Yeosang’s attention. The latter mewled at the intensity of it all. He had Crowned Prince Seonghwa buried deep in his ass and baring his feelings to him in the most intimate of ways. What had he done to deserve such a thing?

Then Seonghwa rutted up into him once again, and whatever thoughts he’d been desperately clinging to melted into the water.

Yeosang lost all sense of thought or time as the prince began thrusting into his willing body. It didn’t take long for their first orgasms to wrack their bodies, the two of them indulging in lazy kisses. Then Seonghwa worked both of them back into hardness and fucked into him once more, nice and slow, until Yeosang turned into a crying mess against his shoulder. The servant came for a second time as Seonghwa located a spot deep within him that sent sparks across his vision. The prince peppered kisses along his jawline and continued to lazily thrust into his body, pulling a mix of whines and moans from deep within Yeosang’s chest. Even after the water neared coolness, they stayed there, Seonghwa pushing him to oversensitivity with each slow drag of his cock against his rim. 

At length, Seonghwa pressed deeply within and wrapped his arms around Yeosang’s shoulders, pulling him tightly against his chest. He came with the softest of gasps, Yeosang appreciating the vulnerability such a simple noise conveyed. 

“I give myself to you,” he whispered, and Seonghwa’s surprised eyes met his own.

“W-what?” For once, it was the prince’s turn to be speechless.

Yeosang sat back, and there were tears brimming in his eyes. “I give myself to you. For tonight, for always; for forever.” He sniffled, smiling even as his lip trembled. “I have thought of this long and hard, and I yearn for nothing more than to share my heart with yours.”

Seonghwa reached up, thumbing a tear off his cheek; he could see the glisten within the prince’s too. “Are you …?”

“Yes, Seonghwa,” Yeosang responded, “Do I need to spell it out for you too?” It was a tease, and it made both of them smile despite the gravity of the conversation. “Until the universe decides I have breathed my last breath, I am yours.”

“You are mine,” Seonghwa echoed, “You are mine.”

Thus, Yeosang slept within the prince’s quarters for the first time that evening, wrapped in warm blankets and limbs tangled with Seonghwa’s own. He listened to Seonghwa’s soft snoring long into the night and reminisced quietly as the prince— _ his prince _ —slumbered next to him.

By the time he awoke, he was no longer a servant.

xxx

Seonghwa used Yeosang’s suggested excuse, and the Crowned Prince ultimately did not attend the meeting. He did not explain what had occurred to his mother and father before they left, hoping to leave them with level heads for when they arrived home. Yeosang sent a silent prayer to the heavens for such a thing; he wasn’t ready to face them so soon. Seonghwa insisted things would be fine, that he would make them work out, but spending your whole life as a servant only to be taken from that lifestyle in a flash (even though it truly wasn’t) made him nervous beyond belief.

Seonghwa did not allow him to attend duties that first morning, keeping him safely tucked in his room until his parents had left. Only then did they head to the servant’s quarters and explain the situation. He kept his head down, unable to handle being stared at by his fellow servants. Though some seemed genuinely happy, some conveyed an envy that cut him right to the core. 

Yeosang struggled with the realization that he didn’t need to be busy to be useful. His hands, so used to cleaning laundry or scrubbing floors, actually ached at their lack of duties. Seonghwa helped a little bit, keeping him occupied with various books he’d never had the luxury to read. But it was still harder on him than one would assume and Yeosang actually found boredom in sitting around and doing nothing. He took up writing poetry and painting despite the winter air turning his inks hard within an hour. Eventually, he learned to play the lute, performing for Seonghwa despite knowing the prince was most likely fed up after years of excessive lessons. But he never tried to stop him, instead encouraging and getting excited over every little new thing Yeosang shared with him.

Taking him into the city for clothes brought about a whole new sense of wonder. Yeosang had run a few errands over the course of his life as a servant but he’d never been allowed to just take in the sights. The buildings towered over him, carved of stone or built from sturdy wood. Not only this, but every person who came across the duo bowed to Seonghwa out of respect. He offered a small wave and a gentle hello. Yeosang knew it would be a tough thing to experience but not to such an extent, and it took nearly an hour to get from the castle to the seamstresses parlor. Clothing presented a whole new issue, with Yeosang stressed over the cost and Seonghwa once again insisting it would be fine. They hadn’t even received a blessing and already Seonghwa was showering him in gifts more expensive than his entire contract.

As predicted, the king and queen did not return until close to four fortnights. Mid February, with snow still falling fresh every other day, it surprised no one when Seonghwa’s father returned riddled with sickness. Despite this, he still made an effort to meet with Yeosang upon Seonghwa’s introduction. Even though every inch of him feared rejection and, even worse, Seonghwa being denounced for consorting with a servant, it did not go this way. His parents seemed more relieved that he had finally found someone overall— _ no more stuffy dinner parties with princesses _ , as the queen phrased it. So, being accepted, Yeosang allowed himself to truly relax for the first time in weeks. The good did not come without the bad, however. 

The king, still afflicted with illness two fortnights later, only grew worse. Ultimately, he chose to step down, citing his ‘old age’ and the sickness refusing to loosen its grip upon him. Seonghwa did not relay the information of going from Crowned Prince to Crowned King in a conventional way. In fact, Yeosang had no idea despite it being the buzz of the castle for a week.

His realization came in a more … intimate manner.

“Come, I wish to show you something,” Seonghwa called from the door. 

Yeosang, who was sitting at their shared desk scribbling away, raised his head. “Show me something?”

“Yes. I think you will enjoy it, my love.” He motioned for the younger man to follow. “I will carry you if I must,” he teased.

It was not a threat without weight; Seonghwa had done so before. So Yeosang rose to his feet, recorking his inkwell and hurrying to Seonghwa’s side. “Where are we going?”

“The throne room. Come.” The prince trailed his hand down Yeosang’s arm, gripping his hand gently.

Yeosang’s eyes grew wide, under the impression they were meeting with the king and queen. His fingertips were ink-stained and his hair sat in a tangled mess. “Oh heavens no, I can’t meet with them when I look like this!” He protested.

“Nonsense. You look wonderful.” Seonghwa smiled, leaning forward to plant a kiss to his cheek. “I have not said who you are meeting with, my love.”

His lips parted but the look Seonghwa was giving him kept him silent. Instead, he allowed Seonghwa to lead him through the winding halls to the room in question. The guards and servants bowed to them as they went and despite Yeosang holding vague status as a noble nowadays, it was still something he had never grown used to; he offered a curt bow in return. 

When they finally arrived at the doors to the throne room, the guards on either side immediately stepped forward to draw them open. One looked ready to offer a greeting but stopped, dipping into a bow instead. Seonghwa waved at them in a friendly manner and then gently tugged Yeosang into the room.

Now, he had been within it quite a few times the past few months, but that didn’t make it any less awe inspiring. Following the color scheme of Seonghwa’s quarters, a large navy rug spanned the length of the room, from the door all the way to the steps leading up to the beautiful thrones at the opposite end. Wooden chairs carved by only the best woodworkers were arranged in rows up rows before them, serving as placeholders for when meetings and various announcements took place. Gold and white lace hung above the thrones, the latter of which were carved from marble and adorned with a whole array of gemstones and intricate carvings. 

They were all traits Yeosang had seen before so it came as no surprise when he turned to face Seonghwa with a puzzled look. Seonghwa didn’t say anything, however, and simply led him down the expanse of the runner. Yeosang scanned the room for any signs of something new but couldn’t come up with a single thing. The prince guided him up the stairs and then let go of his hand, only causing more confusion to hum throughout his veins.

“Go ahead, have a seat,” Seonghwa finally said, motioning to the thrones.

His eyes switched from the throne to Seonghwa’s face a grand total of five times. “ _ W-what? _ Come again? Even with my status, that’s disrespectful.”

“Trust me, Yeosang. Have I ever led you astray?” His expression softened and he once again gestured to the throne.

He took a breath, glancing between them a final time. “... No, you haven’t.” Without a single clue as to why, Yeosang obeyed. His feet shuffled nervously to the thrones. He extended a hand and allowed his fingertips to run along the cold marble, a shiver running down his spine. Looking to Seonghwa one final time, he allowed himself to sink into the throne. It felt … weird to be viewing the throne room from such a vantage point. Hell, it had always felt weird to view it from the back too; Yeosang had only been allowed within it twice as a servant. 

He felt so small sitting there, like the throne may swallow him up at any moment.

Seonghwa shifted in his peripherals, catching his attention. The prince sat down in the other throne, allowing his head to fall back against the back; he fixed his eyes upon Yeosang. 

“Yeosang, my love …” He began before trailing off. His expression changed a few times as he attempted to find exactly what he wished to say. “May I share a thought?”

“Of course you may,” he responded, laughing lightly, “We have been over this before.”

“Then … you are aware that my father has been ill,” he began, voice careful. “I am no longer the Crowned Prince.” The second part came as a sudden jolt, like one may feel when a pleasant dream becomes dark. 

“Y-you were stripped of your position? What for?” He scooted to the edge of the throne, hoping to get up so he could offer support in the form of a hug. But Seonghwa raised his palm, making him halt.

“I am no longer the Crowned Prince, because I have become King,” Seonghwa murmured, sliding from the throne to kneel before Yeosang. He extended a hand, gripping Yeosang’s own gently. “And I wish for you to rule with me. I have been your prince for so long. Will you grant the honor of becoming  _ my _ King?”

The world seemed to grow slower in that moment, his hands beginning to tremble before Seonghwa even finished speaking. A wave of emotion crashed upon him. Yeosang had a feeling this may happen way, way in the future but there had always been that kernel of doubt within his heart too, ready to pop at a moment’s notice. A fear that Seonghwa may grow bored of him and cast him away, despite his personality just short of screaming for the opposite. 

Park Seonghwa, a Crowned Prince and heir to one of the most powerful kingdoms in their current world, wanting to marry Kang Yeosang, a man who had been a mere servant less than a year ago? It was absolutely unheard of.

Yeosang did not realize he had begun crying until Seonghwa kissed his tears away. 

“You wish to spend the rest of your life with someone like me?” Yeosang asked, voice small.

“I will spend this life and every moment after it at your side, if you will allow me to,” Seonghwa responded, framing his face with gentle hands.

“B-but,” the word devolved into a quiet sob, “Surely I am not worthy.”

“You are worth every good thing this world has to offer, and I will show you that every day we are together. Until we breathe our last breaths, remember?” He moved so he could hold the younger man against his body, allowing him to sob quietly into his shoulder. “Kang Yeosang, will you marry me?”

“ _ Yes! _ ” He wailed, cementing it as a story they would tell for many, many years. “I wish to spend my life with no one else but you.”

“I as well,” Seonghwa whispered. “You are a king now as well, Yeosang, and I will make sure you remember that—always. I love you, my dear Yeosang.”

“I love you too, Seonghwa.”

xxx

As was customary, they were wed within the month.

Yeosang insisted on nothing too extravagant, and Seonghwa found no issue in this. He could do nothing to stop their subjects from flooding in to watch but despite his stagefright and the fear of being rejected by people he now carried a burden of protecting, things went as smoothly as they possibly could. 

Dressed in traditional robes woven from the fined silk, they were the nicest things Yeosang had ever worn. Gold and navy, with a hand-sewn crane upon the back, both of them looked exquisite. The hall had been transformed ever further, filled with flower petals and bright banners. Royals from all across the land showed up for their union and though some looked down their noses at him, Yeosang found no reason to care. Only Seonghwa need approve of him. 

It was truly a wedding fit for Kings.

Standing at the front of the throne room, Yeosang gazed at Seonghwa in awe as they went through the official proceedings; not once did he avert his gaze. 

Part of him still believed he was dreaming; the part knew it was true. 

“Kang Yeosang, are you prepared to provide for your husband, in sickness and in health, to stay by his side through good and bad, and to protect him as he may protect you?” The Officiant called.

“Yes, I will stay by his side,” Yeosang replied.

The Officiant repeated the same to Seonghwa, the prince’s expression conveying his love earnestly. “Park Seonghwa, will you protect him as he may protect you?”

“I would die for him, if only he asked.”

“Then,” the Officiant said, “You may finalize your union with a kiss before those who offer witness.”

Seonghwa barely let him finish before he pulled Yeosang towards him, the latter stumbling into the man’s arms. He smiled down at him and raised a hand to gently tilt his head back. The position was reminiscent of their first kiss and Yeosang felt his heart flutter. Seonghwa wrapped his other arm around Yeosang’s waist and pressed their noses together; he could smell a hint of lemon upon his breath.

“What is your treasure, my love?” Seonghwa finally whispered.

“You,” Yeosang replied, “Only you.”

Seonghwa smiled at his answer and moved to press their lips together in a sweet kiss; they were officially sealed as married.

And, here, the next chapter of their lives began.

**Author's Note:**

> i just wanted to write prince!seonghwa being soft for yeosang let me live ,,  
> there will be a part two with the actual idea i had in mind now that this is properly established soooo keep an eye out for that!!
> 
> find me on twt [@moonswallowed](https://twitter.com/moonswallowed) and i'll give u a single grape
> 
> thanks for reading!!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * A [Restricted Work] by [regalmingi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/regalmingi/pseuds/regalmingi) Log in to view. 




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